


To Win a Losing Game

by luceluceluceluce



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU in which Derek's pack are werewolf rebels, AU in which Scott's pack are space special ops, AU in which werewolves are an alien race at war with humans, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luceluceluceluce/pseuds/luceluceluceluce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Earth has been battling werewolves for decades, and the war is nearly won... except for one problem that should have died years ago.</p><p>The mission is simple: kill Derek Hale before his pack starts a full-blown revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Win a Losing Game

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I have a tradition where I wander into a fandom about two years late, write a novel-length fic, and then wander away again before anyone can start asking too many questions.
> 
> On that note, here is the werewolves-versus-humans space opera that absolutely nobody asked for.

 I.

 

            The rubbery fabric of Stiles’ combat suit is familiar, like an old blanket. The lightweight armor molds to his body, the mottled grey of each piece blending into the next. Stiles slides his pistol, loaded with laced bullets, into the holster at his hip.

            The door slides open and Scott’s face appears, eyebrows furrowed with nerves. “Are you ready? Argent is on the call screen.”

            “Yeah, yeah,” Stiles says quickly. It’s never a good idea to keep an Argent waiting. If he hadn’t known that before, years of training next to Allison had certainly taught him.

            He follows Scott into the cockpit of the pod, where the others wait expectantly. Allison stands behind the pilot’s seat, her sniper rifle already slung across her back. To her right, Jackson is draped against the wall, trying far too hard to make it look effortless. Next to him, Danny hardly looks up from his tablet as they enter. Lydia leans against the opposite wall, standing out slightly in the lighter colored armor of a field scientist. She gives Stiles a nod as he slides past her, seating himself in the co-pilot seat next to Scott.

            Scott gives one last glance around at them all, and then presses a single button on the control panel. Instantly, Chris Argent’s face springs to life.

            “McCall,” he says, all business. Scott salutes. “This will be your final debriefing before you enter orbit. After that, communications will be as limited as possible due to likely interception.”

            “Yes, sir,” Scott nods. This was not new information. Nobody was sure _exactly_ how advanced the Weres are, but they definitely know how to intercept radio signals. An entire caravan of men and supplies was lost to prove that.

            Argent speaks again, crisply, as if reading off of a list. “You will be landing approximately two day’s distance from the border of Hale territory- to drop you any closer would put you under danger of ambush. You are to signal back to confirm that you have landed safely. Do not signal again until absolutely necessary, or the mission is complete.” Argent pauses, glaring for a moment at each of them. “I cannot stress the importance of your mission at this hour, Team Beacon. The resurgence of the Hale pack has ignited rebellion across the planet. We are losing ground and men by the day.”

            “Understood, sir,” Scott says, in his best official voice. Stiles tries his best not to smirk.

            Argent gazes at them again, his eyes pausing only for a split second on his daughter. His lips tighten. “Be careful out there. Those monsters don’t have consciences. They cannot be negotiated, bargained, or bartered with. They will rip your throats out with their teeth and feed you to their young, if they don’t make you into one of them first. Am I understood?”

            “Yes, sir,” Scott says again, and then the image of Chris Argent’s face is gone.

            His disappearance reveals the front window of the pod, previously hidden behind the holographic screen. Stiles can’t help but stare at the view outside. They haven’t entered atmosphere yet, the sky above them still pitch-black and dotted with stars. Somewhere above them hangs the Command Ship, where Chris Argent sits along with the other high-ranking officers. Below them, spread out under the inky sky, lies the planet.

            It looks surprisingly like Earth from this distance, too close to notice the alien shape of the coastline. Below them lies the main continent, a sprawling mass of green, split apart in places to make room for vast mountain ranges and valleys. Snow dusts the northern and southern areas of the landmass, including the area they’re currently plummeting toward.

            All six of them stand in silence for a moment, taking in the view. Allison’s lips are drawn tight in a remarkably similar expression to her father. Even Danny looks nervous. They know the risks of a mission like this. But if the Hale pack is trying to pull some kind of Che Guevara shit, attempting to stir packs around the world into rebellion, something had to be done.

            That something was surprisingly simple. Kill Derek Hale.

           


End file.
